


Your Lips Are Poison; Your Taste Is Divine

by DaniGetYourGun (SharkbaitHooHaHa)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley fuck their way through history, Aziraphale loved Crowley from the beginning, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Multiple Orgasms, Other, Porn with Feelings, They cycle through various gender presentations, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), What? In this economy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitHooHaHa/pseuds/DaniGetYourGun
Summary: He was beautiful, but in a ‘don’t touch’ sort of way, like the apple he was famous for- freedom and banishment all wrapped into one tantalizing fruit. Unfortunately, Aziraphale had never been particularly good at resisting temptation.Aziraphale tries to tell himself that what he feels for Crowley is nothing more than lust. Turns out, he's a terrible liar.





	Your Lips Are Poison; Your Taste Is Divine

He was beautiful, but in a ‘don’t touch’ sort of way, like the apple he was famous for- freedom and banishment all wrapped into one tantalizing treat. But Aziraphale had witnessed firsthand that it was the forbidden fruits that tasted the sweetest. And, oh, how he wanted to sink his teeth in. After all, what could be wrong with just a taste?

The moment he let the tips of his feathers run through fiery copper hair on that wall in Eden, though, he knew would gladly drink of that nectar again and again, no matter how dangerous it might be to consume.

He was cautious at first, just a gentle brush of a hand here, a subtle bumping of hips there, anything that could be explained away as an accident if need be.

But the need never came, and his boldness grew. He was playing with fire, he knew, but _ oh, _how he relished the burn, letting his fingers linger in the flame.

As the millenia crept by, Aziraphale lived for those stolen touches, those tender moments. The memory of the briefest contact of skin to skin could tide him over for decades, until they would meet again and he found his hunger renewed.

He didn't quite know what to make of it, this want that had taken residence inside him. He considered, though only for the briefest of moments, that the demon had put it there himself, but as soon as the thought occurred to him, he knew it to be false. This desire was born of something within his own soul, something he dared not name, so he called it 'lust,' never mind the fact that he only truly felt _ peace _ when Crowley was by his side.

In Rome, he showed unprecedented bravery and carelessness, lifting an oyster shell up to soft pink lips. Golden eyes widened behind dark glasses, but Crowley didn’t pull away and instead greedily slurped down the delicacy that was offered him. Some juice dribbled down his chin and before Aziraphale knew what he was doing, he had reached over to wipe it away with his thumb. Before he could retrieve his hand, Crowley deftly caught his wrist, and the last of Aziraphale’s resolve broke, washed away by a wicked tongue licking his fingers clean.

Aziraphale lurched forward, not gracefully, (grace was for people who were concerned with the consequences,) and seized Crowley’s mouth with his own, and he knew then that it must not have taken any effort on Crowley's part to convince Eve to partake of the apple; not if it tasted anywhere near as delectable as this.

They made it back to the room Aziraphale was renting, though for the life of him, he couldn’t recall the journey. Hands pulled greedily at clothes, forgetting in the moment that they were two otherworldly beings who could simply wish them away.

When he finally had Crowley bared before him, Aziraphale reverently ran his hands across the planes of his chest, marveling at the trail of goosebumps his fingers left in their wake. He was quickly distracted, however, by the whine that built up in the back of Crowley's throat, and he leaned in to cover his lips to steal that beautiful sound for himself. 

"Perfect," he breathed, trailing kisses along Crowley's jaw. "I saw all the flowers in Eden and none were as exquisite as you."

Crowley huffed out a breath. "You already got me here, Angel, you don't have to flatter me." 

But Aziraphale wanted, no _needed_ to shower him with gentle words, if only to placate that ache that he made himself ignore; the one born of the tether secured to his heart. "Lovely," he sighed, kissing down his neck, thrilling at the gasp Crowley released in response. "Beautiful." He scraped his teeth against his collarbone and Crowley keened. "Gorgeous." He sucked at salt sweat skin, devouring the taste and committing it to memory. "_Mine _." He sank his teeth into soft flesh and Crowley cried out.

"_Yours _ ," he agreed, breathing heavily, and then it was Aziraphale's turn to gasp as long, dexterous fingers wrapped around his cock. "And you're _ mine." _It was far true than Crowley could even know.

Sounds spilled unbidden from his lips as Crowley stroked him, and there was a hungry glint in the demon's eyes as he brought their mouths together again. "_ Fuck _ me." The words escaped in a gasp against Aziraphale's lips.

"_Yes, _" Aziraphale sighed.

Crowley pulled back suddenly, his face serious as he looked Aziraphale straight in the eye. "No, Angel," he said, grabbing his hand and gently guiding it around to find his entrance. "Fuck. Me."

Aziraphale didn't need to be told twice. He slipped one oiled finger inside, loving the startled cry that escaped Crowley at the intrusion. 

Crowley demanded _more_ and _faster_ right from the start, but watching Crowley fall apart under his ministrations was hypnotic, and Aziraphale intended to savor every moment. By the time he had three fingers in, Crowley was all but begging, and it only took a particular curl of Aziraphale's fingers to dissolve him into a mess of formless sounds. He repeated the motion again and again until Crowley was trembling in his lap.

Seeing Crowley like this made something swell deep within his chest, and again, Aziraphale foolishly called it lust. 

Crowley desperately reached down to carry himself over the edge, and Aziraphale gently pried his fingers away. He whined at the loss and his eyes, unfocused as they were, managed to find Aziraphale's and he looked at him, _ pleading, _and how could Aziraphake deny him anything?

A warmth rushed through him, and he couldn't help the fond smile that spread across his face. "Oh, alright," he said, taking Crowley in hand himself. He barely had to do anything before Crowley decided to take the work upon himself, thrusting up into his fist, then back down onto his fingers, and within moments he was spilling over his stomach, a mangled cry sticking in his throat, and _ oh_. If Aziraphale thought he was beautiful _ before_.

Aziraphale continued to stroke him as he shuddered, and even in his bliss induced haze, Crowley let out a sob as Aziraphale removed his fingers from where they were still pressing inside him to gently brush against his cheek. "You did so wonderfully, darling," he whispered against the shell of Crowley's ear, earning him a soft moan.

"Aziraphale…" Oh, his own name had never sounded so lovely to his ears, whispered, as it was, like a prayer.

Aziraphale gently shushed him and carrgully laid him down on the bed. "Rest now," he said, ignoring the ache between his own legs, as he reclined next to Crowley. He could spend ages just looking at him like this.

But there was a fire in Crowley's eyes now, and he sat up with renewed vigor. "Like hell," he growled, straddling Aziraphale's thighs. Only then did he seem unsure, looking up at Aziraphale with wide, hopeful eyes. "That is… if you still want…"

"_Yes,_" he breathed, and then he wasn't able to say much else as Crowley gripped him and slicked him up, before carefully guiding him to his entrance and beginning his slow descent to take him in.

The ecstasy the motion inspired was almost _ holy _ and the sound that escaped him was unlike any he had ever made or heard before. Crowley leaned down on his elbows so he could capture it as he continued taking him in. And then there they were, perfectly joined, Aziraphale gasping for breath, and Crowley idly threading his fingers through Aziraphale's curls as he waited to adjust. Aziraphale didn't think anything could feel better than simply existing with Crowley as one. Until he lifted partially off him and slammed his hips back down, sending shockwaves of pleasure down his spine, and Aziraphale could do little else but cling to slender hips for dear life and try to meet him thrust for thrust.

He was a ship lost at sea and Crowley was simultaneously the tempest threatening to shatter his hull and the harbor welcoming him home.

Crowley stared into his eyes, and Aziraphale saw something within that caused a certain part of his soul to respond in kind, but he hardly had time to consider it before he was coming with fireworks alighting behind his eyes and Crowley's name forming soundlessly on his lips.

Crowley followed close behind him, burying his face in Aziraphale's neck with a shout as his arms finally gave out and he collapsed onto his chest. 

When Crowley finally regained his senses enough to move, Aziraphale stopped him from rolling away by wrapping his arms around his middle. "Stay."

Crowley laughed breathlessly and simply miracled away their mess before settling and tucking his head under Aziraphale's chin. They stayed like that for the rest of the night, Aziraphale cherishing the weight of Crowley on top of him as he drifted off to sleep for the first time in what must have been centuries.

They parted the next morning to go their separate ways, and Aziraphale made himself a promise he didn't realize he had already broken that whatever they had between them could never go beyond the physical.

Every few decades their orbits would briefly align, and they'd collide at alarming speed in a burst of heat and want and passion before gravity sent them hurtling their separate ways once more. This time, however, instead of the simple memory of skin against skin to tide him over, Aziraphale had taste, scent, and sound to carry him until their next meeting, when he could sate his hunger once again.

No longer content to just play with fire, he had doused himself in accelerant and gladly stepped into the open flame. Crowley was an inferno made flesh and bone and, _ oh, _ wasn't it just marvelous to burn in such a beautiful way?

_ He saw them both in his mind's eye, saw them as they really were, all wings and fire and steel and scales. And halos. He stared in awe at Crowley's. Broken and fractured though it was, it gave off more light and warmth than his own and he couldn't help but bask in it, paying no mind to whether this was the actual truth, or if it was merely the truth as he saw it. He did, however, wonder for the first time if perhaps truth- and by extension right and wrong- were perhaps more subjective than he was originally made to believe. _

"Tell me of the stars," Aziraphale asked once, while they lay on their backs in a secluded field, their sides pressed together as they gazed up at the night sky.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Crowley tilt his head to look at him, and Aziraphale met his questioning look with a smile. "What about them?"

"You helped make them, right?"

Crowley gave a half-hearted shrug and turned his eyes back to the cosmos. "Some."

"...If you don't want to talk about it-"

Crowley pointed one finger up at the sky, directing Aziraphale's gaze to a tiny ball of light, struggling to stay alight in the darkness. "I made that one," he said, sounding almost proud. "It was my first."

Aziraphale smiled. "What's it called?"

Crowley frowned. "I don't know. The humans got to name everything."

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. "What if we gave it its own special name?" he asked. "Known only to us?"

Crowley looked at him again, his eyes wide and vulnerable and filled with something that made Aziraphale avert his gaze.

He frowned. "You don't have to come up with something right away. You can think on it a bit, if you-"

"Aziraphale," Crowley breathed.

Aziraphale looked back up at him. "Yes?"

Even in the dark he could see Crowley was blushing as he blinked shyly. "No, its name," he explained. "Its name is Aziraphale."

Aziraphale had nothing to say to that, so he didn't. Instead he shifted his position until he was laying across Crowley's legs and he gently pulled the robes (black, always black) aside, revealing his prize. "Do you know the names of any of the other stars?" he asked casually, as though he hadn't just brought himself face to face with Crowley's cock.

Crowley sat up on his elbows to look at Aziraphale. "...I know the constellations?"

"Mmm," Aziraphale licked his lips and looked up at Crowley with a silent question, which the demon answered with a nod. "Tell me," he instructed, before taking Crowley in hand and slowly licking his way from his base to the tip.

It didn't take much before Crowley was fully hard, doing as Aziraphale had asked with gasping, shuddering breaths. He brought him to completion three times that night with the name of the first star he ever made dripping fervently from his tongue.

_ He saw them standing side by side at the edge of creation, the glow from Crowley's halo illuminating the nothingness around them. Through the light, Aziraphale could only see the endless possibility that stretched out before them. _

The damp was making him irritable, and Crowley's suggestion that they were simply canceling each other out didn't help.

Later, in Aziraphale's tent, he would scold him for even suggesting they shirk their duties, but he had a feeling Crowley didn't take his words to heart. It might have had something to do with the fact that said lecture was mostly said against Crowley's slick folds as he greedily lapped at his juices, relishing the fingers that had found a death grip in his curls and the chorus of moans that rang above him. He was sporting the same kind of effort (it was easier with the armor) and had one hand pressed between his own legs, rutting against his palm with no real rhythm.

Before he could even bring Crowley to the edge once, however, he found himself being hauled to his feet and pulled into a warm lap as dexterous fingers found their way to his center and demanding lips pressed against his own, a broken keen echoing in Crowley's chest as he tasted himself on Aziraphale's tongue.

It became almost like a competition, then, each of them trying to be the one to make the other orgasm first and the most. By the time they collapsed onto Aziraphale's sleeping roll, both entirely exhausted and overstimulated, he truly had no idea which of them should be crowned victorious.

Crowley stole away in the middle of the night, when he thought Aziraphale was asleep, with a kiss pressed to soft, golden curls and a whispered 'I love you' that wasn't supposed to be heard. Aziraphale waited until he had left the tent to release a deep shuddering breath, and he didn't know why he spent the rest of the night weeping. He assumed it was guilt.

It wasn't. 

_ He saw Heaven. He saw Hell. _

_ And he saw the two of them somewhere in between. _

_ "Would you hate me for it?" he asked. _

_ "For what?" _

_ "For not loving you back." _

_ Crowley laughed. "What a ridiculous question, Angel." _

The ballroom was truly a sight to behold, but Aziraphale only had eyes for Crowley. He had been announced as Count Something-Or-Other, Aziraphale hadn't really been listening, too distracted by his delight at finding Crowley here. He was posing as a courtier, decked out in frills and lace, a fact which only served to frustrate him when they were finally able to sneak away to have a moment to themselves.

They found themselves in a hallway, Aziraphale pinning Crowley to the wall, so they were unable to simply miracle their clothes away. Instead, Crowley fumbled his way through Aziraphale's skirts until he found his dripping center. "Fuck, Angel," he gasped at the discovery. He pulled his fingers away and they were covered in slick. "Already?"

Aziraphale grabbed his face and pulled their mouths together. "I've been wanting this all night." The rough edge in his voice made Crowley shudder. 

He pulled away and stuck his fingers in his mouth, his eyelashes fluttering shut as Aziraphale's taste hit his tongue. He pulled them back out with an obscene pop and looked intensely into Aziraphale's eyes. "Divine," he murmured, tilting his head to kiss him again and now Aziraphale could taste himself on Crowley's lips and he moaned deep in his throat, his hands going to unlace Crowley's breeches.

Crowley hiked up his skirts as Aziraphale pulled his cock free, stroking it as Crowley's hips stuttered into his grasp. "Angel," he groaned. "If you keep that up, I'm not going to last."

"Then I guess you'd better get on with it," he challenged. 

Crowley growled and grasped Aziraphale by the hips, wheeling them around so their positions were switched. Aziraphale expected Crowley to enter him, then, but instead the demon sank to his knees and ducked under the layers of fabric. Somehow, standing in the hallway with Crowley kneeling before him, his head hidden under his skirts felt even more onscene than him thrusting into him with his head buried in his shoulder. The possibility of being discovered sent a thrill through him that only intensified as he came for the first time that night. 

After his second orgasm left him shaking and babbling about how good it felt, it took a surprising amount of begging to get Crowley to emerge from under his dress and fuck him properly, but when he did, Aziraphale whispered soft praises into his ear, and did Crowley the favor of pretending not to notice the tears running down his cheeks as he finally released inside of him.

_ He saw Crowley in everything. When he closed his eyes, his visage was burned into the back of his eyelids. He was past the point of letting go. He couldn't even if he wanted to. _

Aziraphale hadn't even meant to ask it. But when he heard Shakespeare say it would take a miracle for people to come and see _ Hamlet _ , he couldn't help the hopeful look that had crossed his face. When Crowley looked at him then, Aziraphale became acutely aware that Crowley would do absolutely anything he asked of him in that moment and any other and it both terrified and thrilled him. He swallowed past the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat as Crowley begrudgingly (but not really, _ never _ really) said, "My treat."

When he returned from Edinburgh to find the theatre completely packed, that thing deep within him ached, and he had to show Crowley his gratitude immediately, in the dark space below the seating. It was cramped, but that hardly seemed to hinder them as Crowley stretched him open with one hand, while the other gripped both their cocks in his nimble fingers.

The standing ovation the show earned was enough to drown out their cries as they dived into ecstasy hand in hand.

_ He saw the world rushing around them, and it went by quickly. Too quickly. He wanted to hold on to these moments, to preserve them, but he didn't know how. _

The clothes that Crowley wore were even more ridiculous than the ones Aziraphale had donned for that ball those many years ago, and Aziraphale found himself dearly hoping that whomever had invented hoop skirts had ended up at the hands of Crowley’s associates rather than his own. Crowley wasn’t helping matters much either; in fact, she looked downright amused as she watched him try to get a grip on the whole ensemble. 

“My, my, Angel, so impatient,” she said, and though half of her face was hidden by the folding fan she held in her gloved hand, Aziraphale could see the smirk in her eyes.

“You could help,” he pointed out.

The fan closed with a snap, and Aziraphale was finally graced with Crowley’s smile, accented by the red paint lining her lips. She reached down to where Aziraphale’s hand was bunched in the dark fabric and made as though she were going to take it from him, but stopped, half bent-down with her face mere inches from Aziraphale’s. 

“That’s the gentleman’s job, dear.” Her smile widened with mischief as she tapped Aziraphale on the nose with the closed fan before straightening again. “Chop, chop, now.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, and gripped Crowley’s upper arms to steer her backwards towards the bad. Before they collapsed onto it, he snapped his fingers and all of Crowley’s irritating attire vanished.

Well, almost all. It seemed the demon had performed some kind of minor miracle of her own, as her body was now adorned in some kind of black lacy undergarment that made Aziraphale’s cock strain against his trousers in a way that was even more maddening than it had been a moment ago.

“That’s more like it.” Crowley smirked and made herself comfortable on the bed before beckoning towards Aziraphale with one long finger.

He miracled away his own clothes and then he was on top of her, claiming her mouth with his own. He pushed aside the fabric covering Crowley’s entrance and ragged moan fell out of him at how wet he found her.

“All for you, Angel” Crowley whispered into his ear, and that thing roared up within him again with alarming force, and it was too much, he was already so close to begin with. Still, he was caught completely off-guard when he spilled across Crowley's stomach and breasts with a sob, completely untouched.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped out, raising a hand to miracle it all away. “Let me-” Crowley gripped his arm tightly, though, preventing him from completing the action.

“_Leave it _ ,” she hissed, dragging their lips together again in a messy open-mouthed kiss as she wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles together, urging him inside. And, of course, Aziraphale was already hard again, how could he not be with Crowley looking at him like _that,_ so he lined himself up and thrust in with one fluid motion that made Crowley's back arch off the bed, a strangled ‘yes’ spilling from her lips.

He awoke the next morning to find red smeared all over his face and neck, making it painfully obvious what sort of activities he had gotten up to the night before. Crowley smirked at him, a teasing lilt in her voice as she said, "Red suits you, Angel. Perhaps you should just go out like that.

So he did, ignoring the demon's embarrassed protests as he prepared to leave the house with Crowley by his side posing as his wife (as they've been doing for the past several weeks) and set out to go about their business. The stares they got were worth that lovely shade of pink Crowley's face took on for the entirety of their outing.

_ He saw the end approaching. Not armageddon, but something else. And he knew he was powerless to stop it. _

It was almost funny. Centuries of being together in some of the most intimate ways possible, and it took a literal bomb falling on his head for Aziraphale to admit the truth, at least to himself.

It started with a touch, just the simple brushing of their fingers as Crowley handed over the satchel of books he had saved from the fiery explosion. 

This time, there was no writing that surging feeling he felt in his chest off as lust. He had gotten quite good at playing the fool, but even he couldn't deny that this was _ love _. But, oh, how he wished he could.

He climbed into the passenger side of the Bentley, fully intending to say it, by the words caught in his throat. He couldn't. 

Intrinsically, he knew that the danger of such a feeling wasn't to himself. Not truly. Crowley would certainly never hurt him, and he already knew what his own punishment would be, should he ever be found out. It was obvious. It wasn't that he took Falling lightly, but somehow it didn't scare him.

But what unspeakable horrors would Hell dream up for Crowley? Worse, would Heaven want retribution for the loss of one of their own? If so, he knew Crowley wouldn't be walking away from their divine wrath.

It was hypocritical, he knew. He was already putting Crowley in harm's way with what they were sharing with their bodies, if there was indeed any peril to be found. Still, it felt like saying the words out loud would make it real in a way it hadn't been before.

So, he kept his mouth shut, and when the Bentley pulled up in front of the bookshop, he moved without thinking, straddling Crowley's hips before the demon could even reach for the door handle.

"Angel?" Even with his shades on, he could see that thing in Crowley's eyes, and now he finally had the proper name for it: _ love. _And there was trust there, too, so much trust, and Aziraphale nearly cried because he didn't deserve it, because here he was, putting Crowley's life on the line yet again, even though he refused to say the reason out loud. 

_ I love you. _

He pulled Crowley's sunglasses off and folded them before tossing them onto the passenger seat. Crowley let out an amused breath of air. "We're literally parked outside your shop, wouldn't you rather-"

Aziraphale silenced him with a kiss, long and slow and sensual. Feelings were complicated, but this was easy. When they finally parted, Crowley was gasping for air he didn't need, and he looked up at Aziraphale with such love it nearly broke him. "Yeah, alright, Angel. Right here's fine."

As he fucked Crowley in the front seat of his Bentley he tried to put all the depth of the things he couldn’t say out loud into it, hoping that somehow, he could get the message across.

_ He saw Crowley before him, saw their hands joined as the demon pulled him along. But Crowley seemed so sure-footed while Aziraphale kept tripping up and stumbling over his feet. _

It was a risk he couldn't take, and had there not been so many other words jumbled in his throat, trapped behind his lips, he might have been able to tell Crowley as much.

Instead, he used these stolen moments to try and tell him of his love using his body, again, and again, and again.

_ He saw Crowley pulling farther and farther ahead. Aziraphale's lungs burned and his legs ached, and still he struggled to carry on, doing his best to keep up. Crowley looked back at him over his shoulder, a question in his eyes. Aziraphale held on with both hands now, desperately trying not to lose his grip. "Please. I can't keep up. Please, wait!" _

It started with a touch, as it always did. Their fingers connected briefly as he handed over the thermos and his heart shattered as he realized this might actually be the last time he saw Crowley.

There was still so much to say.

Anything he could have said, anything that would have been sufficient, got stopped up in his throat, like it always did, and instead, all he could say was, "You go too fast for me, Crowley."

_ He saw Crowley's hand slip through his fingers. _

_ And he was gone, leaving Aziraphale alone in the dark with only his own dim halo to light his way. _

Aziraphale didn't hear from Crowley again until the night he called after delivering the Antichrist. When they met at the park the next day, his heart soared at seeing his face. 

But Crowley was beautiful in a 'don't touch' sort of way.

_ Don't touch. _

_ Don't touch. _

_ Don't touch. _

They never talked about what they used to be, but every time he looked at Crowley he saw the question in his eyes, plain as day even behind his sunglasses. And hope.

It was the hope that hurt the most.

He didn't even know if there was anything to hope _ for _.

It took the world coming back from the edge of apocalypse for him to be brave again.

On the bus ride home, he twined his fingers together with Crowley's, and finally felt like he was _home_.

They arrived at Crowley's flat, not knowing what tomorrow would bring. If ever there was a time…

"I love you." The words rushed out of him with no regard for the grand speech he had begun planning in his head.

Crowley looked at him, unblinking and confused. Aziraphale was busy trying to find the words to prove it when Crowley said bluntly, "I know."

Aziraphale blinked. "You… what? ...But you can't sense love."

Crowley smiled, then, soft and gentle. "I don't need to. You threw a tidal wave of it at me with such force you nearly knocked me off that blessed wall, and you've hardly stopped since," he said with a laugh. 

The wall? Since Eden? Surely he would know if he'd had these feelings since then. But then he recalled Crowley's warm smile and the way the breeze had lifted copper curls into the air and he felt his chest tighten and he knew- from that very first moment, he had been lost.

"See?" Crowley stepped forward and brushed an errant curl out of his face. "There it is again."

"So, then… you knew? All this time?"

"Always," Crowley grinned. "What, did you think that for the past two thousand years I was under the impression that we were merely fucking?"

Aziraphale spluttered. "Well, _ I _was!"

Crowley laughed, and _ oh_, what a beautiful sound. "Oh, Angel." There was a teasing tone to his voice and he pursed his lips in a ridiculous way, making his voice mushy. "_We were making lo-ffmph! _"

Crowley's eyes sparkled mischievously as Aziraphale slapped a hand over his mouth. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be the one blushing furiously. That was more Crowley's area of expertise.

Crowley gently grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from his mouth. "And I shouldn't need to tell you, since you _ can _ sense love, but I love you t-"

This time, Aziraphale cut him off with a kiss. He still didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but in this moment, he knew everything would be fine.

Crowley broke the kiss to press their foreheads together. "How do you want me, Angel?"

"Any way," he gasped. "Every way."

Crowley let out a huff of laughter. "You're going to need to pick _ something _ to start."

"_Surprise me _." Aziraphale challenged before drawing him for another kiss.

And Crowley, always eager to please, did, again and again with whispered 'I love yous' that slipped off his tongue as easily and sweetly as honey, with a cottage in the South Downs, and with a lifetime of happiness and devotion.

Aziraphale, finally free from his own restraint, gladly gave him the same in kind.

Crowley was beautiful in a 'don't touch' sort of way. But those warning signs were for people who weren't Aziraphale.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr!](http://acuteangleaziraphale.tumblr.com)


End file.
